


Falling

by CitrusVanille



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Dancing, First Kiss, M/M, POV First Person, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-14
Updated: 2006-04-22
Packaged: 2018-04-13 22:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4539177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CitrusVanille/pseuds/CitrusVanille
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guess who has to learn how to dance!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> Some Relena bashing and perhaps some bad dancing as well.

They say a moment in time can change the course of your life. Something as seemingly unimportant as a minute can make all the difference. It can make you, break you, grab you by the shoulders, slap your face, and shake you. Come wrath or ruin, hell or high water. For better or worse, in sickness and health, ‘til death do we part. One minute. One innocent minute. And it’s over. Whatever came before is gone, never to return, and what the future holds… no mere man can know. A whole new world awaits, a whole new life. Good or bad, let it come, because that single moment heralds the dawn of a new era.

Pretty amazing, right?

If you believe that kind of bullshit.

I don’t. I never did.

But, of course, I find denial a happy place to live. I’m comfortable here. But if I ever really think about it, I have to fight with myself to stay here.

Because it’s true. Every word.

– – – – –

I remember it exactly. All I have to do is close my eyes and I can see the flashes of light flaring in the dark; I can hear the heavy beat of the music; I can feel the pulse racing through my veins.

It’s probably the clearest of my memories, and definitely the most meaningful, but I’ve never spoken of it to anyone before. It was rooted in earlier events, it probably wouldn’t have had quite the impact it did otherwise, but even so, that feeling…

I don’t know when it really started. When he first shot me? Before? It doesn’t signify. My life-altering moment came much later, and it was a direct result of yet another pointless mission in a long string of pointless missions (I call them pointless missions now because, looking back, I know they shouldn’t have happened, but that’s another story entirely).

Anyway, to be close to the target, we enrolled in the local high school – just Duo and I, the others were on other assignments. It wasn’t anything special, just a regular school – which catered to the needs of the rich and famous, but, by that point, that was old hat to us both.

There were, however, two problems which I hadn’t prepared for.

The first problem was Relena. Now, I feel bad calling her a problem, because she really is a nice enough girl, and she’s done worlds of good, but she just wouldn’t take a hint! To this day I don’t know how she did it, but everywhere I went, she showed up, too. And she followed me around like a shadow – except shadows aren’t pink and they’re generally silent: even _Duo_ looked quiet next to her. I tried to be civil, but Duo made no such effort to hide his irritation. Of course, the blonde wasn’t particularly fond of my long-haired fellow pilot either, and obviously had no qualms about showing it. She always was one to flaunt her emotions, though.

The second problem was something I should have foreseen and taken care of, long before we actually arrived at the school. Every school has certain requirements, generally courses all the students are expected to take and pass, but there are always ways to get around them – _if you do it in advance._ Unfortunately, it never occurred to me that there would be something I couldn’t handle, and by the time I realized my mistake, it was too late. I had to take dance lessons with everyone else.

**TBC**


	2. Intro

“This can’t be right,” I said for what had to be the millionth time, my shock and near-outrage for once too great to be concealed by my carefully cultivated stoical silence.

“Relax,” my mission-partner soothed, clearly trying very hard to keep a straight face. He was failing miserably.

“Don’t tell me to relax, Maxwell,” I ground out, annoyed by his lackadaisical manner. “This is horrible.”

“Horrible?” he raised an eyebrow. “What’s so horrible about it? It’s just dancing.”

I glared at him, thinking, _Shit. He’s got me there. It’s so embarrassing, but he’ll spot a lie a mile away, and that’ll be even worse._

He leaned his hip against my desk and crossed his arms, waiting.

 _Just get it over with,_ I told myself. My glare wasn’t working.

Finally, he tired of waiting. “Well?” he demanded.

“I can’t dance,” I admitted through gritted teeth.

Both his eyebrows shot straight up and a bark of laughter escaped before he bit down on his wrist to muffle the sound.

I glared again.

“But I’ve seen you dance,” he reminded me when he could speak again. “With your _girl_ friend.”

“Relena is _not_ my girlfriend,” I growled, annoyed even though I knew he was just kidding. “And I’ve only danced one dance with her. I only ever learned one. It took me so long to get it that Dr. J decided to drop my dancing lessons, said there were better uses for my time.”

A cheeky grin spread across his face.

I winced: that was never good.

“I’m sure there are plenty of girls who would love nothing better than to help you improve your dancing, Blue-Eyes,” he teased.

I reminded myself sternly that I didn’t want to kill Duo, that I liked him and would regret it later if I did, no matter how good an idea it sounded at the time. I gripped my chair arms instead of his neck and trained my glare on my laptop, silently vowing revenge.

He laughed again, seeing my dour expression. For some reason, the sound sent a tingling sensation down my spine.

Then the alarm on my computer started beeping.

Duo glanced at the clock, startled, and pushed away from my desk. “Break’s over,” he announced unnecessarily, gathering his books from his bed, where he’d dumped them upon entering the dorm earlier.

I didn’t move. If I moved, it meant I was going to afternoon classes. If I went to afternoon classes, it meant I would eventually end up in the dance studio. And that was not going to happen. Ever. I wouldn’t do it. I wouldn’t. And no one could make me.

A very childish voice in my head was screaming, _I won’t! I won’t! I won’t! They can’t make me!_

“Come on, soldier,” Duo grabbed both my hands and hauled me unceremoniously to my feet.

He shoved my bag into my arms, then, retrieving his own, turned me around and walked me to the door, hands on my shoulders. He opened the door, and gave me a bit of a push. “Forward march,” he commanded, voice almost choked with suppressed laughter, and proceeded to all but frog-march me down the hall.

 _Rat bastard,_ I griped silently, letting him propel me towards the overpass that led from the dorms to the classrooms.

Duo’s proximity was making me strangely uncomfortable, as was the continued pressure of his hands on my shoulders. I tried to shrug them off, but they didn’t move until we’d reached our classroom.

I took a seat in the back row, near the window. Duo plopped down in the only seat next to me, stretching his legs out beneath the desk.

Barely a moment later, Relena entered the room with her entourage of giggling fans. I could see her scanning the class, and looked determinedly out the window as her gaze swept over me. I felt her eyes pin me for a moment, then pass on. When I turned back to the room, she’d taken a seat at the front of the room.

Duo was glaring fixedly at the back of her head.

 _And they say_ **I** _can kill with a look,_ I thought with a touch of asperity. But I was oddly pleased by his blatant animosity towards the girl.

The professor swept in as the bell rang, signaling the start of class.

Duo slid me a sidelong glance, saw I was watching him, and grinned, then went back to glowering at the blonde in the front.

For some reason, I couldn’t seem to focus on the lesson at all.

I was worried about the dance class, which wasn’t supposed to happen, since I wasn’t supposed to worry about anything (that would imply that my abilities were less than perfect, and that was not acceptable), but that wasn’t what was distracting me. I should have been able to work despite any anxiety. Besides, even though I dreaded the mere _idea_ of being forced to dance, what did it really matter if I looked like a complete idiot in front of these other students? It wasn’t as though dancing were a skill I needed as a soldier, and I wasn’t likely to see any of them ever again, except for Relena, of course, and I really didn’t care what she thought of me. But, for the life of me, I simply couldn’t keep my attention on the lesson. And as the period wore on, my gaze kept being drawn to the boy next to me. It gradually occurred to me that my intense aversion to looking like a fool was based almost solely on the fact that _Duo_ would be there to see. The theory startled me at first, but I told myself firmly that it _did_ make sense. I reasoned that I didn’t want a fellow solider to see any weaknesses I might possess, especially after so carefully constructing the appearance of having none. But lurking in the shadows of my mind was the very definite knowledge that it wouldn’t have matter anywhere _near_ as much if it had been any of the others.

The bell indicating the end of the period startled me from my discomforting musings. Even more of a shock was Duo grabbing my hand the instant the bell rang and dragging me to our next class.

A flash of heat had run through me at his touch, but when I glanced at him to see his reaction, it seemed as though he hadn’t noticed it.

 _I’m probably just imagining things,_ I thought. _Not good, but better than…_ I clamped down on that notion, refusing to finish the sentence, even in my mind. I’d imagined it, and that was all there was to it.

I tried to work my hand free anyway, subtly of course, but failed. His fingers just tightened, as if he had no intention of releasing me any time soon. I wasn’t sure what I thought of _that._

Duo pushed me into the back corner again, and once again took the only nearby seat for himself.

When Relena swept in with her faithful followers, Duo smirked at her.

Once again, my attention kept straying from the teacher to the long-haired teen at my side.

At the next bell, Duo again raced me through the halls. It was irritating in a way, but had saved me from Relena before, so I didn’t protest.

She gave him a nasty look when she saw us already seated in the back of our next class.

He responded by sticking out his tongue.

I almost laughed aloud. Almost.

Class began.

This time, Duo caught me, several times, sneaking glances at him.

“What?” he whispered, the third time this happened.

“Nothing,” I muttered hastily, and bent my head over my books as my face began to heat up.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see he was still watching me, but I couldn’t dissect his expression.

When he made to haul me off again, I was quicker, avoiding his disconcerting touch, but still moving swiftly and sitting in the back with him.

Relena arrived scant seconds after we’d sat down. She didn’t hesitate a moment, but stormed up to Duo, getting in his face.

“You’d better give it up, you little rat,” she hissed, eyes narrowed in an expression of anger I’d never seen before. “He’s mine, and you know it as well as I do. You can’t have him. You don’t deserve him. And against me, you don’t stand a chance anyway.” She pulled back. “So stay the hell away from him.”

I sat in shock, having never heard her speak like that before. And I was completely confused as to what she’d meant.

_You can’t have him._

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Duo, on the other hand, seemed completely unperturbed by her furious diatribe. He merely grinned, blew her a kiss, and flipped her off.

Relena gasped and sputtered, but the professor had arrived, and there was nothing she could do but take her seat.

When Duo realized I was staring in a most un-soldier-like fashion, his grin grew wicked, and he blew me a kiss, too.

I forced myself to scowl at his antics and turn away – swallowing hard and wondering why I was having to force what should have been my natural reaction.

Class ended, but this time I dug my heels in when Duo tried to get me moving. The dreaded dance lesson was next, and I was still frantically trying to think of a reason not to go.

It was a mistake. I should have taken off with Duo when I had the chance.

Relena waited only long enough for the other students to file out before she pounced.

She approached and inserted herself between me and Deathscythe’s pilot, turning her back on him to effectively block him from whatever conversation she planned on having.

“I was just wondering, Heero,” she purred, “if you had a partner yet for dance class. I’ve been trying to ask you all afternoon, but – ” she shot a swift, vicious, glance over her shoulder at Duo – “I kept missing you.”

I opened my mouth to answer, though I had no idea what to say, but Duo cut me off.

“You don’t have a partner yet, Relena?” he asked, leaning on her shoulder, the very picture of innocence. “That’s so horrible.”

She pulled away sharply. “I wasn’t speaking to _you_ ,” she said frostily.

His grin was downright malicious. “Heero doesn’t speak to _you_ , but that has never, to my knowledge, prevented _you_ from harassing _him_.”

“I have never _harassed_ Heero!” the blonde bit out indignantly. “He happens to enjoy my company.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Duo shot back nastily. “Ask him yourself.”

Relena gasped. “How dare you!” She whirled on me. “Are you going to let him talk to me like that, Heero?”

I stared at her for a long minute, chewing on my lower lip.

“We’re going to be late for class,” I said finally, and slipped between them, heading for the door. As much as I dreaded the coming lesson, at least being in the presence of another professor would shut them up.

They didn’t catch up with me until I reached the studio (I assumed they’d started fighting again, and the red handprint on Duo’s face seemed to be proof that Relena, at least, had turned violent).

I couldn’t help but scowl as I entered the studio, and I’d barely crossed the threshold when Relena latched onto my arm.

I bit my tongue to keep from saying something I’d regret later.

Our instructor was already there, urging people to choose partners. Not surprisingly, I ended up with Relena.

The period was, as I’d expected, hell. Dancing with Relena wasn’t particularly difficult, as she was only a few scant inches shorter than me, but being that close to her for a prolonged period of time was starting to make me physically ill. And I couldn’t focus on the steps – my attention kept being diverted to Duo, who seemed to be having the time of his life.

He was a very good dancer, I noted, feeling a bit jealous. He and his partner moved around the room with a grace I knew I’d never be able to match. And they seemed to be getting along quite well. I felt an inexplicable surge of dislike for the girl when my mission partner laughed loudly at something she’d said.

At long last, the class was over.

The instructor let us go, with a warning that if we hadn’t practiced on our own – and improved dramatically by the next class – he’d keep us after for as long as it took us to perfect the ‘art.’

I made some excuse to Relena – who didn’t seem keen on releasing my arm – and fled.

Back to the safety of my room went I.

Back to the safety of my computer, which wouldn’t toss its hair and bat its lashes at me. _God_ I hated that blonde girl just then.

Duo found me still at my laptop sometime later.

“You weren’t at dinner,” he commented, dumping his things on the floor and flopping on his bed.

“Hn.” I was only half-listening, still concentrating on my computer.

He made an exasperated noise: he hated when I ignored him.

“Relena was looking for you. Says you need to practice.”

“Tell her I died.”

There was dead silence for a long moment, then a burst of laughter.

I stopped typing and turned around.

Duo was clutching his stomach and laughing so hard there were tears running down his face. It was almost… cute.

The revelation startled me. Duo wasn’t cute. He was a soldier. A fellow Gundam pilot. And annoying. Very annoying. But he _was_ undeniably attractive.

I bit the inside of my cheek and waited for him to finish.

“Sorry, ‘Ro,” he managed at last.

I started. _What did he just call me?_

“It’s just… I never thought something like _that_ would come out of your mouth.” He chuckled a bit more.

“What did you call me?”

He instantly stopped laughing, looking suddenly like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. “What?”

**TBC**


	3. The Question

“You called me…” I paused. “‘Ro?”

“Oh. Uh. Yeah.”

For some reason, he’d gone slightly red.

“Why?”

He looked down, the color deepening.

I waited.

“I wanted to,” he muttered at last, not meeting my gaze.

“Why?”

He looked up. “Does it bother you?”

_Nicely sidestepped, Maxwell._ “No. It’s just that I’ve never had a nickname before.”

“Oh.”

I turned back to my computer and started typing again.

“So it’s okay if I call you that?”

“Hn.”

“Heero.”

“Hm?”

“Turn around.”

I rolled my eyes, but stopped typing again and turned.

“Is it okay if I call you that?”

_Why is this so damn important to him?_ “Yes, you idiot,” I told him, though my words lacked their usual bite. “It’s okay if you call me ‘Ro.”

“Okay.”

I watched for a moment as he played with the end of his braid – twisting it almost nervously – then forced my attention back to the report I was working on.

“What are you going to do about Relena?”

“Do about her?” this time I turned around immediately.

He nodded.

“I’d love to shoot her, but she’s too important to kill.”

He stared for a moment, eyes wide, then burst out laughing.

I never would understand him. He’d ask me a question, I’d answer him honestly, and he’d double up in hysterics. I suppose my answers _were_ a little odd, sometimes, but I really didn’t think they were quite _that_ funny. Not that I was really complaining, I loved his laugh, and I have to admit, every once in a while I would say something that was “so typically Yuy” (as he put it) just so that I could hear that wonderful sound.

“I meant about the dancing,” Deathscythe’s pilot said when he’d managed to get himself under control.

“Oh.”

He chuckled a bit more. “Not that I’m against shooting her, or anything, though I suppose you _would_ have an awful lot of explaining to do if Princess Bitch turned up dead. She really does deserve a good shooting.” He fingers lightly touched his cheek, a sour expression on his face.

My own fingers went to my arm. “Bullets don’t always kill,” I offered, feeling the scar with my fingertips as I gave an inner frown at the thought of Relena hitting the other boy.

His eyes followed my fingers, and he laughed again. “True,” he said, and grinned widely. “So would you like to do the honors, or shall I?”

The corners of my mouth twitched as I fought a smile. “I doubt it would be good for politics if she got shot, even if she didn’t die.”

“I guess.” He didn’t sound thrilled. “Well, since you _can’t_ kill her, and you _won’t_ shoot her, what are you going to do about this dancing business? You need to practice, you know. You kinda suck,” he looked slightly apologetic, but he wasn’t really one to mince words.

I clenched my teeth for a moment. _Great,_ I thought. _Just great._

“Well?”

_Why is he so interested?_

“I don’t know.” I looked at him for a moment. “Why?”

He shrugged.

_What’s that supposed to mean?_

He was fidgeting again.

I looked at him for another long moment. I could tell he had something he wanted to say. And it must have been important, because usually he would just come out with whatever it was instead of beating around the issue, like he was so obviously doing now. I knew him well enough that I was sure he’d spit it out eventually if I waited.

“So,” he was picking at a loose thread on the blanket under him, now. “A bunch of us are going downtown later tonight. Most of the guys in our dance class need some help, and there’s a club that’s pretty popular, which is a helluva lot better than extra dance lessons from the professor.”

_What does this have to do with me? He goes out all the time._

I waited again.

“Did you, uh, want to come?” His eyes were fixed on the blanket.

“To a dance club?” I kept my voice carefully neutral.

“Well, uh, yeah.”

“With the boys in our dance class?”

“Um… yeah.”

“You want me to go to a dance club with a group of people I don’t know.” It wasn’t a question.

“You wouldn’t go with a bunch of people you don’t know!” Duo said fiercely, head shooting up, either defensive or… what?

I wasn’t sure.

“You’d go with _me_!” His eyes went wide and he clamped his mouth shut, as if he’d said something he hadn’t meant to.

“You want me to go with you?” I was actually hoping he’d say ‘yes.’

I couldn’t believe I was actually hoping he’d say ‘yes.’ _What the hell is wrong with me?_

“I… you… it would give you a chance to practice without having to deal with Ugly in Pink,” he said at last, avoiding my eyes again. “It wouldn’t have to be like… _that_.”

“Did you mean it like that?” I tried to keep any eagerness out of my tone, though I wasn’t _entirely_ sure what ‘that’ meant, anyhow, I knew what it _sounded_ like it meant, and for some reason I couldn’t explain, I wanted…

But there was a little voice in my head – that sounded surprisingly like my twice-damned trainer – telling me that it didn’t matter what he’d meant, it’s not like I would go anyway, I had work to do, and going out would only distract me. Another voice, that sounded almost like Quatre, was telling me that maybe I’d have fun if I went, and a voice that sounded eerily like my own was saying that maybe Duo actually _did_ want me to go, and my going would make him happy. The first voice scolded the two others and said he probably hadn’t meant it like ‘that’ anyway. But what if…

I waited.

Duo couldn’t lie, but he wouldn’t look up either. “Yes,” he mumbled after a long silence. I almost didn’t hear him.

“Yes?” I almost didn’t believe it.

“Yes,” he repeated, still almost inaudible.

_Wow. That was…_

Part of me was completely stunned. I really hadn’t thought he’d actually meant it like ‘that’.

Another part of me, the annoying part, was telling me yet again that it didn’t matter, anyway. I had to focus on the mission. The mission was all that mattered.

“Okay.” The word left my mouth before I could stop it.

He looked up, then, confused. “Okay?”

_Stupid. Stupid,_ the annoying part of me growled. _What the hell did you say that for?_

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

_Don’t do it. Don’t do it…_

“I’ll go.”

_Agh! Idiot!_

His entire face lit up. “You’ll go?”

_Don’t –_

_Shut up,_ I told the angry voice in my head. _Look how happy he is. He wants me to go, and I want to go. So just shut up._

I felt a smile start on my own face. It felt strange.

“I’ll go.”

**TBC**


	4. The Preparation

I couldn’t have possibly expected what happened next.

Duo, self-titled Shinigami, feared pilot of the Gundam Deathscythe, launched himself off his bed and into my embrace – well, actually, _he_ threw his arms around _me_ , nearly knocked me over backwards in my chair, as a matter of fact – half strangling me in the process.

I was so startled that Duo was hugging me that, for a long moment, I couldn’t react at all.

Then, right as my brain decided to start functioning enough to convince me that the only proper response was, indeed, to wrap my own arms around _him_ in return, he pulled back as abruptly as he’d arrived.

“I-I just… I d-didn’t m-mean… it-it’s n-not… i-it w-wa-wasn’t…” Duo was stuttering so badly I could barely understand a word. He was backing away, face deep scarlet and eyes wide, as he shook his head helplessly.

“Duo?” I was more than slightly alarmed. _What the hell…?_

The backs of his knees hit the side of his bed, and he sat down, hard.

“Duo,” I repeated, more firmly this time.

He just stared at me, violet eyes still wide, looking a little frightened.

That wasn’t right. Duo Maxwell didn’t get frightened.

I wanted to grab his shoulders and snap him out of… whatever it was he was in. Of course, I didn’t do it – I had a hunch it would be a bad idea. In fact, I tried not to move at all: I didn’t want to spook him. But this whole business was making _me_ nervous, and that wasn’t supposed to happen either.

“Breathe, Maxwell,” I ordered. I must have slipped into what Duo’d once referred to as my ‘soldier voice’ (the name had stuck and the other pilots refused to give it up), because he obeyed at once, taking several deep breaths and sitting up ramrod straight, as though he were on duty.

A second later, he blinked, and suddenly relaxed, looking sheepish. “Sorry,” he muttered.

I was tempted to ask what the hell his deal was, but decided that my reputation was already in enough danger ( _and soon to be in plenty more if all this nonsense about clubs and such doesn’t stop at once,_ that irritating voice pointed out), and saying something so… well, so _common_ , would only compound the problem even farther.

“Departure time?” I asked instead, a little more stiffly than I’d intended as I once more silently shouted at the annoying voice in my head to shut up.

“Two hours. Ten o’clock.”

I nodded, once, and turned back to my computer. I had a lot of work to do before I left.

I heard Duo rummaging around for a few minutes, then the door to the bathroom opened and closed. A moment later, I heard the hiss of water as the shower started.

My fingers froze over the keys, and I found I was unable to focus again until the sound of the shower ceased. My mind had immediately taken a vacation, and I couldn’t seem to stop images of Duo under the water from filling the empty space in my head.

_God, he’s gorgeous,_ I thought.

_What the hell is wrong with you? Do your damn work! You have a mission to accomplish, Yuy. You should know better than to let yourself be distracted by anything! The mission is all that matters. Besides, these thoughts are completely beneath you._

_But they’re so fun._

I bit my bottom lip.

This. Was. Not. Good.

The shower turned off, and I refused to allow myself to become diverted by any other… interesting… pictures. I _needed_ to focus on my mission.

By the time Duo returned, I was typing steadily once more.

I didn’t turn, but I could vaguely see his reflection in the computer screen. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips, and seemed absorbed in drying his long hair, wringing it out with a towel. He wasn’t wearing a shirt.

I found myself trying to peak at him out of the corners of my eyes.

_Stop it,_ I told myself sternly. _You have work to do. You shouldn’t have agreed to go in the first place, and you know it._

_It’ll keep me clear of Relena,_ I argued back. _God only knows what I’ll do to her if I have to spend more time dancing with her, either in extra class sessions or – horrors – alone. It will protect her, and thus it will protect our broader mission here on Earth._

_If it makes you happy to think so._

_It_ will! _She’s not going to be there, so I can’t do anything to her!_

_So you would have refused if she were going with you?_

_…_

_Exactly._

_Shut up._

I tried yet again to force myself to concentrate.

It didn’t go very well.

At half past nine I gave up.

I retrieved a towel from my closet and left Duo to his slowly forming braid.

Locking the door behind me, I set my towel down within easy reach of the shower, and quirked an eyebrow at the various brushes and hair-ties littered around the sink. I figured the mess should bother me, seeing as how it made it all the more apparent that, once again, the other pilot had _not_ picked up after himself, as I’d requested he do on more than one occasion. But, strangely, I felt only a sense of comfort from the regularity of it.

Trying to shake off the unusual sentiment, I ran the shower and stepped under the spray before it had even had a chance to warm up. I had to stop whatever this was. I couldn’t keep thinking about him like this. It was distracting me from the mission.

Out of long habit, I used my partner’s shampoo.

*****

When I returned to the main room, towel wrapped firmly around my waist, I discovered a surprise. Duo had covered my bed as well as his own with clothes.

I frowned.

“Heya, ‘Ro,” he grinned, spotting me. His eyes flicked over me, and I fought the sudden urge to blush.

_You’re imagining things,_ I informed myself, feeling intensely uncomfortable because I _knew_ I _wasn’t_ imagining his scrutiny. _Think of something else for a change._

“What is this, Maxwell?” I demanded, jerking my head towards the clothes. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know, but _anything_ to make him stop staring like that… and to keep me from staring in return.

His grin faltered for a moment at my tone. “Clubbing options,” he replied after a moment.

“What?”

“Well, you can’t wear _that_ ,” he joked, gesturing at my towel.

I ignored his frivolity. “What’s wrong with _my_ clothes?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why – ”

“They’re just not appropriate for a club.”

“Why not?”

Duo blinked at me. “Um, don’t take this the wrong way, but have you _seen_ your clothes?”

I didn’t dignify that with an answer.

“Just trust me on this, Yuy.”

I scowled, but didn’t argue further.

“Come here,” he commanded, beckoning me over to my bed.

I approached cautiously, and glanced down, filled with apprehension.

To my intense relief, at least some of the garments looked normal. I deemed it best not to inquire into the electric-green pleather pants or the fuzzy headband complete with faux fur cat ears.

“Well?” Deathscythe’s pilot prompted after a moment of silence. “Anything appeal?”

“Those will do.” I pointed to a pair of simple black pants and a white button-down shirt.

“That’s practically a uniform, Yuy,” the braided boy complained.

I picked up the pants, but he grabbed the shirt before I could.

“Nya-uh,” he shook his head. “Not with those pants.”

“Pardon?”

“You’re not wearing a suit to a club. Here, try this.” He handed me a dark blue shirt with no sleeves.

He flashed me a quick grin, then grabbed a handful of pieces from his own bed before disappearing into the bathroom.

I hesitated only a moment before dressing.

The pants, though surprisingly comfortable, were quite fitted, which made me wonder – a little inappropriately – just how tight they were on Duo, who was much more nicely shaped than I was. The shirt was remarkably soft, and I liked it at once. Everything smelled cleanly of fresh laundry and, much more faintly, of something it took me a moment to recognize as Duo himself. I’d never borrowed clothes from anyone before, and wondered if my own things had my scent ingrained in them.

I moved almost instinctively in front of the mirror and examined my reflection.

My eyes widened in surprise. I actually looked good. The clothes fit well, and the blue of the shirt matched my eyes almost exactly. I wondered if Duo had given it to me for that reason. A bit of a smile curled my lips upwards, and I realized I liked how it looked – I would have to do it more.

The smiled turned to a scowl as I saw my hair. It was a mess. I tried to straighten it with my fingers to no avail.

The very fact that I was standing in front of the mirror like this bothered me. I made it a point to never give a damn about my appearance – or what others thought of it – since that was a distraction a soldier didn’t need, and couldn’t afford. And I was _smiling_. My entire world was standing on its head.

The bathroom door opened again, and I jumped and spun away from the mirror, my hand falling guiltily from my still-mussed locks.

_What the hell is wrong with me? – Oh wow._

Duo stood in the doorway, and he looked… amazing.

The breath caught in my throat as I looked at him. Dark blue jeans – not too tight, just tight enough – and a short-sleeved button-down shirt – with only the three middle buttons done up – in a dark wine red. The gold of his cross glinted against his skin.

“You clean up good,” he remarked in a tone I deemed a little _too_ casual.

I lifted my eyes to his, and noticed the kohl lining that brought out their color.

“Well?” He held his arms out and twirled around, braid swinging after him. “You like?”

I nodded mutely.

His face fell, as though he’d been hoping for something more.

There was a knock on the door then, just seconds before a clock started chiming somewhere across campus.

By the time Duo opened the door to admit several boys I recognized vaguely from class, his cheerful grin was back in place. It didn’t reach his eyes.

**TBC**


	5. The Club

After a swift round of introductions – for my benefit, I was sure, though I really couldn’t have cared less – I followed Duo and the others from the dorm.

The six of us piled into a car (I didn’t know who it belonged to, but Duo drove), and off we went. I rode shotgun, and spent the ride staring at the city as it glided by my window. The others chattered.

The trip was over quickly, ending in front of a tall building covered in bright fluorescent lights. We climbed out and Duo tossed the keys to a waiting valet.

I half-assumed we’d go stand in the long line that had formed leading to the door, but apparently our wealthy classmates had connections, because we were admitted immediately.

Now, I pride myself on being ready for anything, but I was _not_ prepared for what was inside. It was hot and crowded, and the music was so loud I could barely hear myself think. It was dark, the only light coming from flashing multicolor strobes and the exit signs. I didn’t know what to do, and neither the gun holstered at the small of my back nor the knife sheathed in my boot was doing much to comfort me.

Duo, clearly sensing my tension, took my elbow and steered me away from the entrance. The others had already vanished into the sea of bodies.

We wound up at the bar in the far corner of the room. Duo sat me down, and ordered two of something with cherries.

Contrary to popular belief, I had been (to put it in layman’s terms) ‘completely smashed’ before, and on more than one occasion. I was not, however, particularly savvy when it came to the options. To this day, I’m still not sure what it was we drank, but it was strong.

I could feel the beat of the music pounding in my chest, almost as intoxicating as the alcohol. I couldn’t understand half the lyrics, but it didn’t matter.

“You gotta dance, ‘Ro,” Duo said suddenly, mouth close to my ear so I could hear, breath stirring my hair. I felt a warm shiver run down my spine.

“What?” I turned to look at him, and suddenly his face was very close to mine, so close his breath drifted across my lips, warm and sweet. His amethyst eyes flickered with some unnamable emotion and I was suddenly afraid to breathe.

He pulled back a few inches, face flushed, either from the alcohol or the heat of the club, I wasn’t sure. “You hafta dance,” he told me. “‘S why you came, isn’t it?”

I just stared at him.

“Come on,” he stood, tossed aside his cherry stem, and held out a hand to help me off the barstool. “Let’s find you a girl.”

“Find me a girl,” I repeated, feeling foolish.

“To dance with,” he explained slowly, as though I were thick. Or drunk.

_Duh._

“I know what you meant,” I told him, scowling. “And I’m not drunk, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“All right,” he agreed, a little too readily. He was looking suspiciously disbelieving.

“I’m not,” I insisted, and I wasn’t. I knew my limits, it had been part of my training, to learn how to determine how well I could function under the influence. And I didn’t live under a rock, I was familiar with both the wonderful freedom that came with inebriation and the unpleasantness of the morning after. The release from caring about missions and rules was a strong lure, but I’d learned early on what the consequences were (J was not pleasant when crossed), and I rarely drank much. That night, I’d only had enough to become what is affectionately known as ‘buzzed.’ My inhibitions were melting away, and I was only too happy to see them go. I was slowly relaxing into the comfortable feeling of my partner’s company, now that I could let myself relax at all, and I was not eager to leave it for some simpering girl.

Duo looked at me more closely, and must have realized I was telling the truth, because the suspicion cleared from his face and he nodded, and held out his hand again.

“I’m not dancing with some strange girl,” I informed him, still ignoring the hand.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, propping his hands on his hips. “You can’t just sit there all night. The point was for you to learn to dance without having to deal with the Blonde Bitch.”

I frowned. He was right, but… “I don’t want to dance with – ”

“Fine!” he cut me off. This time, he actually grabbed my hand and yanked me to my feet. “Let’s go.” He started pulling me away from the bar.

I dug in my heels. “Go where?”

“If you won’t ask a girl, _I’ll_ teach you to dance.” He wasn’t looking at me, so I couldn’t see his face, but his ears looked decidedly pink. Of course, in the half-light of the club, I could have been imagining it. “It’s not all that hard.”

“Duo, I can’t ask you to…” _But I wish I could,_ I realized. _I really,_ really, _wish…_

He faced me and gave me a little smirk, like he could read my mind. “You know you want to,” he said, and I was so stunned I let him pull me out into the press of bodies on the dance floor.

As we wove our way through the dancers, I remembered what he’d said about me coming here _with him._ And he’d said he _had_ meant it like that, which meant…

“Duo?” I tugged on the warm hand still holding mine.

He turned. The strobe light hit him from behind, outlining his figure and making his hair glow chestnut. It barely lasted a second, but it was enough to make my breath catch in my throat. He looked incredible.

“What?” the question broke me out of my reverie.

“Duo, do you like me?” I gave an inner wince as I heard myself. _And the genius speaks,_ I thought bitingly.

“What?” his eyes had gone very wide, and, even in the semidarkness, I was sure he’d just turned a brilliant shade of red.

I could barely believe I was doing this. Heero Yuy was not supposed to care about anything personal, either in his own life or anyone else’s. _Maybe I don’t want to be ‘Heero Yuy’ anymore,_ a small voice said in my mind.

I shook my head. _Must be the alcohol._

“Heero?” Duo was watching me.

“What do you feel about me?” I clarified. “Do you think of me just as a fellow pilot, or a friend, or… more?”

_Definitely the alcohol._

He was gaping, mouth moving silently like a fish out of water.

“Because I think I like you. As more than a friend.”

_Damn, that stuff must have been stronger than I thought. What the hell did he give me?_

“I… I…” Duo couldn’t seem to speak.

_Oh, shit. Duo can always speak. This is bad. What the hell have I done now? Retreat! Quick!_

“Sorry. You don’t have to say anything. I shouldn’t have said that. Just forget it.”

_Smooth. Very smooth,_ that sarcastic voice was enough to make _J_ cringe in embarrassment.

The beat of the music changed slightly, and I could suddenly hear the song.

_Left is right and right is wrong_  
Being high doesn’t turn me on  
One and one must not equal two  
‘Cause I’m falling in love with – 

The crowd pushed us together, and I could feel the pulse of the music urging me to move. It was odd, I’d never wanted to dance before.

Maybe, for once in my life, I should forget about J, and the mission, and the war, and everything I hated so much. Maybe I should forget about being Heero Yuy, whoever he was, and just be _me_. I _wanted_ to be me.

So I would take this chance.

_You’re under water, I’m out of air_  
I’m not libel for me I swear  
I don’t know what the world’s coming to  
Must be falling in love with you 

I slid my free arm around Duo’s waist.

“Teach me to dance,” I whispered into his ear.

He turned his head slightly to look me in the face, an unreadable expression molding his features.

I prayed he wouldn’t turn me down.

_I’m out of body, you’re in my head_  
You’re alive, then I must be dead  
I hear that Hell’s got a wonderful view  
Must be falling in love with – 

He held our joined hands between our chests and looped his other arm around my neck.

I breathed a silent sigh of relief. Maybe everything would work out after all, whatever ‘everything’ was.

“Don’t think,” he told me. “Just feel. Feel the music, and let it take control.”

And just like that, we were dancing.

_Put on your face, pull up your dress_  
Take me weeks to clean up this mess  
Damned if I don’t, so what if I do  
And I’m falling in love with you 

He was right. It really was easy. In fact, it was fun. It was good.

Impulsively, I pulled him closer, enjoying the heat of his body against mine.

His fingers played with the hair along the nape of my neck as we swayed to the beat, gently twisting and twirling the short strands. It tickled a little, but it also felt nice.

_Please, I’m fine, I’m good, just stay away_  
I’m black, you’re white, I’m straight, you’re gay  
You’re sick, I’m tired, he’s Greek, I’m not  
But I love, you hate, I’m sold, you’re bought  
I’m fine, I’m good, just stay away 

It hit me, all of a sudden, that maybe the reason he’d gotten upset just before our classmates had arrived was because I’d brushed him off. Or, at least, that he thought I had. I hadn’t commented on his clubbing preparations because I’d been in shock, but maybe he thought I hadn’t said anything because I hadn’t liked it.

_One way to find out for sure,_ I thought.

I leaned in close to his ear again. “You really do look wonderful,” I whispered, and pulled back slightly.

His smile lit up his entire face. “Really?” he asked.

“Really,” I nodded, thinking, _I sound like an idiot, but I don’t mind being an idiot for you._

_Left is right and right is wrong_  
Being high doesn’t turn me on  
One and one must not equal two  
‘Cause I’m falling in love with you 

And that’s when it happened. The music going, the lights flashing. He leaned in even closer, and pressed his mouth to mine.

My first kiss.

I realized in that instant how much I’d wanted to kiss him since I’d first met him, and it was incredible.

Our lips parted, and I could taste him: sweet, like the cherry I’d watched him eat before he’d pulled me from the bar, with a hint of the alcohol we’d both consumed. Our tongues moved together in a dance all their own as our bodies continued to move to the song.

We pulled apart to breathe.

_Damned if I don’t, so what if I do  
And I’m falling in love with you_

“I like you as more than a friend, ‘Ro,” he whispered, close to my ear so I would hear him. “I would have thought you’d know that by now.”

I knew nothing would ever be the same.

“Duo?”

“I love you, ‘Ro,” he whispered. “Always.”

“I love you, too.”

It sounded corny, even in my head, but as someone once said, if you’re not willing to sound corny, then you don’t deserve to be in love.

_I think I’m falling in love with you…_

And that was it. It changed my life, and his, but it was only a moment.

One moment. Nothing more. Nothing less. Just a single moment in time.

**The beginning.**


End file.
